


Let Me Sing What I Can't Say

by HMS_Gunner



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Guitarist Zayn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:44:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HMS_Gunner/pseuds/HMS_Gunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hits Zayn like a wave, and the only thing he can do is sing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Sing What I Can't Say

_I wonder a lot about the 'what ifs' in life, especially when it comes to him._

_I wonder what would have happened if I never made it past the auditions, if we never became successful, if I'd be the straight boy the other falls in love with. In some alternate universe, I wonder if we’re happy._

_But I’m in too deep to be wondering about the ‘what ifs’. Somewhere along the way, my friendship with him became too deeply entwined, and even if I magically fell out of love with him, it would never survive the disconnect._

_The guys don’t know, and while I know they wouldn’t care about how I could feel towards men as well as women, I’m afraid of saying anything. Maybe I'm overthinking it. I always do. But I know how I feel, and until I find someone else to love, I plan on telling him long after the band no longer exists._

//

Zayn pretended to be looking for something, sifting through a few pages of sheet music, waiting for the others to disappear. When the last of them entered the gas station for snacks, he dropped the thin stack of papers and sauntered out of the bus, hiding himself on the side facing the road. He loved his band members, but being cooped up with four very different personalities for long periods of time can be exhausting. He needed a noiseless moment to himself just so he could hear himself _think_ for once. He reached for the pack of cigarettes out of reflex, but he felt no craving, so he put it back. Instead, he leaned back against the metal and glass and a song welled up in his throat. The words came easily to his lips and out into the air.

_Drank the dark wine of the New York night_  
 _My shattered mind across the borderline_  
 _Spent the night in someone else’s arms_  
 _Shed your love, shed your love  
_ _Shed your love, shed your lo—_

A slight crunch to his left snapped him out of song. Zayn turned quickly to his left and was relieved to be met with a friendly face.

“Don’t stop,” Liam said, leaning against the side of the bus. He waited for Zayn to start again, arms crossed and a curious smile dancing on his lips, and Zayn’s heart fluttered a little now that there was a spectator, but he figured it didn’t matter much. Liam might as well have listened to the rest, and it’d be the first clue of any kind that he was in love with his best friend.

Zayn nodded, more so bobbed his head in a silly manner, and shut his eyes again. A clear, melancholic stream of hurt filled the calm country air again, and this time, he sang until the words ran out. It drained him, oddly enough, but maybe because Liam had watched the entire time, he’d given it his all. Hearing nothing but the sound of cars rushing by on the freeway, he opened his eyes and looked over. Liam’s eyes were still latched on to him, a subtle amazement glazed over them, and it instilled a rare self-consciousness in Zayn. He tried to hide his flush and shuffled a little bit but didn’t move far. Liam, who had yet to move an inch, opened his mouth when a familiar voice disrupted the fragile silence.

“Zayn! Li! Where’re you wankers at?” shouted Louis.

Liam turned around a little too late, for Louis already rounded the corner and jumped on his back. The moment vanished like frightened birds from a tree, and Zayn watched as Liam gave Louis a piggyback ride back to the bus door, dangling a bag of chips for him to chase. Zayn followed once they disappeared from view. For a second, he toyed with the notion that Liam also thought of him as more than a friend. But only a second.

//

“So, boys, how many of you are of the single persuasion?”

A wave of silence tempered with curiosity rippled through the crowd. The show host looked expectantly to the far end of the couch at Zayn, who smiled out of reflex. He raised a hand and answered with a quick “I am,” raising a roar from the crowd. Harry and Niall echoed the answer as well, and then it came to Liam. The word “Danielle” stung a little, despite the fact Zayn had already anticipated it and watched with his lip caught in his teeth. He thought that maybe in some delusional world of his, Liam just hadn't said anything about his relationship with her ending, and he'd look to Zayn as he said "Not taken." The laughter of the crowd brought him back from his thoughts, and after Louis said, “Taken” as well, the host shifted the attention to them for a bit.

It didn’t take long for the filming to end, and soon, they were back in their hotel rooms, a welcome reprieve from the cramped tour bus. The instant Zayn entered his room, he stripped down and headed for the shower. He didn’t care for the frilly amenities luxury hotels offered. All he needed was a soft bed and a hot shower. To him, it was the best place on earth. It was private and calming, and his thoughts could wander freely without anyone to disturb him. And of course, hot water.

For the past few weeks, he spent his private time trying to convince himself out of love, trying somehow to surgically separate the platonic from the not-so-platonic thoughts he constantly had. Liam touching his shoulder, giving him a hug, looking at him in that way on stage and off stage - these were all things that he needed to parse apart, but at the end, his feelings became more tangled.

Half an hour later, having given up trying to sort out his thoughts, he stepped out into a billow of steam and wrapped a towel around his waist, feeling soft and clean. Upon walking out, it took a second for him to register that someone else had come in while he was in the bathroom, and he let out a small scream. His hands flew up in a gesture of self-defense but dropped them just as quickly, half-shouting, "Oh my god." His heart rate, however, took a little longer. Liam held a fist against his lips, failing to conceal his laughter.

“Sorry,” he said, holding his free hand up, shaking from giggles, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Was all me,” Zayn replied, placing a hand on his chest.

“We’re ordering takeout. Did you want anything?”

“Nah, I’m not hungry.” Zayn plopped down next to Liam, lay back, and spread his arms out, amply exposing every inch of ink. He wasn't lying. He hadn't felt hungry in weeks. Sometimes, he'd smell eggs or the scent of salad dressing, and he'd remember to feed himself, but even he'd noticed that he had begun to thin out somewhat. His cheekbones were sharper than before, and he felt tired all the time.

Liam looked behind him and asked, “You alright, Zayn?” Without looking down at Liam, he responded, “Yeah, why d’you ask?”

“You’ve kind of been off in your own world lately. I'm worried. You're losing weight, you look like you're wilting away, and it's been harder and harder to get you out of bed.”

Zayn propped himself up on his elbows. Liam’s wide, brown eyes sat under furrowed brows, mirroring the concern in his voice. Zayn sighed and sat upright, feeling the gaze practically stab at his heart, but he couldn’t just tell Liam that he’d realized something that could alter their friendship. He hated dropping bombs like that. Especially when they could destroy something he treasured so much.

“I’m okay. It’s nothing major.” As if falling in love with your best friend was nothing life-changing.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Liam offered, clearly not buying it.

“Maybe another time when I’m not half-naked and wet," he said, shaking his dripping hair for effect, "But thanks for worrying.”

Liam grinned and gently punched his friend in the shoulder. He rose up and went to tell the others to order without Zayn, who watched a piece of his heart disappear through the doorway. He buried his face in his hands and swore under his breath as soon as Liam was out of sight.

Sleeping was a struggle. And it was never a struggle for Zayn. His bed felt foreign and every wrinkle on the sheets jabbed at his back. He woke up every other moment, tossing and turning because it was too cold, too hot, or just plain uncomfortable. With an annoyed tug, he tumbled out from under his comforter, and grabbed his guitar. It was three in the morning, which, except for the fact he couldn't fall asleep, was a good thing. There were no fans down on the curb shouting, “I love you!” and almost no cars interrupted the calm of the early morning. He sat down on a patio chair with his feet on another, the metal frame cool against his skin, and absentmindedly strummed until a song came to mind. He took a deep breath, letting the notes come to his fingertips and the words to his lips.

_Maybe I love you, maybe I just like the sound._  
 _But if you disappear you’ll still hear when my heart hits ground._  
 _Every touch of every scene_  
 _Is just beautifully broken as a bird without wings._  
 _All we have holding us back, holding us back_  
 _All we have holding us back_  
 _For all we have, what’s holding us back?_

He closed his eyes and he could see Liam standing across him, like a bright image on a dark gray screen. And to that screen, Zayn sang the sum of his emotional frustrations, everything he wanted them to be but couldn’t. Every word that floated out popped like a little bubble filled with love that had nowhere to go. He imagined the squeeze of his arms around Liam’s neck, or Liam’s arms around his waist and his hands nestled in the small of Zayn’s back, or their foreheads pressed together, or the feeling of their lips meeting for the first time.

Coming to the end of the song was like seeing the light and the dream fade away, and he opened his eyes to the night again, feeling downright tired. A sharp breeze ran past him, sending a chill to his cheeks.

They were wet.

//

Zayn kept the guitar close by as they toured, pulling it out at hotel patios in the middle of the night whenever the guys were sound asleep. The catharsis and exhaustion that followed losing himself in each song never failed to console him. It reminded him of why he loved music and stood before deafening crowds until his feet hurt. The night became a confidant who listened with no judgment and was a place to set his feelings free like rose petals cast into a river, putting him at complete and utter ease when all he had was anxiety and a one-way love. 

_All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go,_  
 _I’m standing here outside your door,_  
 _I hate to wake you up to say good-bye._  
 _But the dawn is breaking, it’s early morn,_  
 _The taxi’s waiting, he’s blowing his horn,_  
 _Already I’m so lonesome I could die._

And then there was Perrie. It had been months since they last saw each other, and perhaps it had been building long before and had now taken form, but something about this meeting drew them to each other. She became the girl who turned his head when she walked by. Perrie made it easy to forget, to sleep, to eat again, and to laugh, and Zayn could lose himself in her eyes forever.

He told the guys and parents before the paparazzi could find out, which they eventually did, and soon, everyone knew. Harry, Niall, and Louis were fairly upfront about congratulating him, but it bothered him that Liam didn’t. He had said “Congratulations” in some form but it sounded almost mechanical, rehearsed, with a hollow quality filling each syllable, and he smiled the smile he gave the adoring fans, not to his friends, especially not his closest friend. But Zayn didn’t question it. In fact, he thought that maybe he had imagined it.

But seeing Perrie on a consistent basis was difficult. They were on separate tours and with their schedules out of their immediate control, Zayn could only contact her through his phone or his laptop. He’d spent whatever time they could together but those days were few and far in between.

And despite the fact that nothing had really changed, Zayn sensed the dynamics of the group shifting. He and Louis bonded over talking about girls and Harry and Niall would approach him for advice sometimes. But not Liam. He'd purposelly avoid talking to Zayn about Perrie and if she were brought up somehow, he'd magically receive a text from Danielle or the urge to go to the bathroom. But Zayn didn't mind. He preferred it this way, even if it still tore at his soul the way Liam ignored him by being there.

//

On one of the few nights they had off, the boys decided to venture out to a local club, so they could remind themselves that despite their stardom, they were just boys thrust onto the world stage. Almost immediately upon entering, Louis ordered a round of shots. And then another. And by the third, it didn’t take long for them to feel warm and loose before spreading out on the dance floor.

The club itself was loud and dark, with the bars flanking the edges, the DJ with the turntables in the center standing high above, and the dance floor staggered so that the lowest level surrounded the DJ and the speakers. The only lights in the club swirled around on the dance floor, creating a soft, neon glow, and a swarm of red painted the DJ like the dying sun.

Louis went off to dance with Niall, and Harry was off grinding against a random girl who didn't seem to know who she was, and he liked it that way. Liam was nowhere to be seen, but what did Zayn care? For all he knew, Liam was being the weird one now. Zayn pushed the thought away and sauntered from the bar and sandwiched Niall with Louis.

After an hour of just fooling around on the dance floor, Zayn felt the urge for a smoke creeping in and headed out for some air. The door to the back was a large slab of rusted metal with a handle, opening with a squeak and shutting with a clang. He wiped his brow, getting a palm full of sweat, and let the cool air wick away the heat. It took him a minute to realize that he stood in a narrow space in between two buildings. High above was a dark blue lamp providing scant illumination, teasing out the shape of graffiti on the jagged bricks. A large dumpster fit into the nook of the dead end, water dripping off of its edges, and the air was damp like the ground from recent rain.

Zayn leaned against the wall opposite the door and pulled out his Zippo. The burning embers of his cigarette stuck out like a lonely star at night. The warmth of the smoke in his lungs contrasted nicely with the cold air.

Minutes later, the door swung open, the rusted squeak scraping across his eardrums, and out came a mysterious but somehow familiar silhouette. Clang.

“Hey! Was wondering where you went,” said Liam.

“Just needed some air,” replied Zayn, recognizing the voice and the broad shoulders contoured by the blue.

They chatted for a bit outside, the conversation strangely not as awkward as Zayn thought it'd be, but Liam fell silent as he lightly paced around pretending to study the graffiti or the blue light above them. Zayn watched curiously as the blue shadows enveloped Liam in different ways as it shifted from his shoulders to his neck, his back, and his chest. Despite how dim the light was, it still bathed everything in a glow, rendering everything just visible.

Abruptly, Liam stopped in his tracks.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Yeah, anything,” Zayn replied.

“Why d’you get up at night and sing?”

Zayn coughed, puffs of smoke shooting out, caught entirely off-guard by the question. He dropped the cigarette and hastily stamped it out, all the while pounding his chest to clear the fit. To think that Liam had known, that he’d actually been watching and listening, oh crap, _listening_ , to Zayn singing these songs was mortifying. But the thought that terrified him the most was that Liam must have known. His mouth went dry and his heart struggled to beat at a normal pace. He swallowed the burning lump in his throat and averted his gaze down to his feet.

“Dunno,” he muttered, shrugging. His was voice was unsteady as he replied, “Just helps me sort out a few things. Can’t do that when everyone’s up. Sorry if I woke you.”

He looked up at the sound of shoes mildly slapping against the wet ground and found himself only a foot away from Liam, whose face was awash with dark hues of blue, and his eyes were locked on to Zayn’s. His lungs struggled to catch the rapidly thinning air. He couldn’t move, despite his mind yelling at his limbs, as Liam bridged the distance between them at an agonizingly slow speed and stopped until his face was mere breadths away from Zayn’s. Liam’s breathing, a calm, shallow rhythm against the muffled noises of the club, became very audible and hypnotic. His tequila-tagged breaths were fleeting moments of warmth on Zayn’s face, and his natural scent was strong and intoxicating.

“Don’t be sorry,” Liam whispered, each syllable puffing against Zayn’s lips.

Zayn shut his eyes in anticipation. Blood pounded in his ears and his entire body was ablaze with it, but in an instant, the fleeting warmth vanished and didn't return. The rusty door shut with a defiant noise, and Zayn was left alone in the alleyway shivering. It took a long stretch for him to register what had occurred. That wasn’t playing around like they did on stage. That couldn’t have been. That was something else entirely, and if he didn’t know any better, that was a sign. He adjusted his pants quickly and ran inside to look for answers. Was Liam trying to make a statement? Was he just trying to fuck with Zayn’s head? Because he did quite a splendid job.

Zayn strode around the club, but in the tangle of bodies on the dance floor lit intermittently by the swaying lights, finding Liam was going to be impossible. He walked around the periphery and leaned on a railing. An arm slid around his neck, but he was familiar enough with the touch to know it was Harry.

“Hey, where’d Liam go?” Harry asked.

“Don’t know! Just ran out on me!”

“Weird,” he shouted, “Anyway, I got him his drink. Guess it’s yours now!”

He handed Zayn the Long Island and ran off to join Niall and Louis to dance. As he watched, he thought, Fuck Liam, and fuck anything to do with him. He had caused him enough grief as it was, and this wasn't going to be another night spent thinking about something that would never happen. Quickly, he gripped the Long Island and pounded it back, trying to let the alcohol wipe his mind clean. He didn’t care that he’d regret it the next morning, and joined in on the fun.

//

At the next hotel, Zayn paired up with Niall. Niall tried to ask what was wrong, but considering how hung over (read: pissy) Zayn was that day, he said nothing. Truthfully, Zayn wasn’t as hung over as he led them to think, but he still wasn't really talking to any of them except about superficial things. He hadn’t forgotten what happened in that narrow alley and despite trying to drown it away with booze, it occupied the vast majority of his thoughts. Both Perrie and Liam walked circles in his mind, vying for his attention, and he felt his confusion deepening.

Liam, on the other hand, acted as if nothing had happened, maybe because to him, nothing had. And Zayn hated that.

He stayed in bed for most of the day, staring at the ceiling or out the window or at a book. Sometimes, he’d fall asleep for a couple of hours, but it still ate at him when he woke up. In between naps, he'd pace around or sit on the window sill, an unlit cigarette limply dangling from his lips. Nothing else bothered him anymore than it did now. It threw everything off and turned his world upside down. On a couple of occasions, Niall knocked and came in with the intention of talking to him but Zayn just waved him off and told him he’d get over it before the next show.

Well, he hoped he would.

“Hey, I’m going to get food. Do you want anything?” Niall asked.

Zayn's stomach growled. “Fries would be great.”

Niall nodded and headed out. Hearing the door click shut, Zayn figured he should be somewhat productive and went out to set up the Xbox. He scrounged around for games to play but found only Halo. He put the disk in anyway and played until the whole mess of thoughts sank into the corners of his mind.

An hour passed before a knock came on the door.

“Door’s open!” Zayn shouted.

The door swung open and shut, and with a bit of a smile, Zayn asked if Niall had the fries.

“Niall, you get ketchup with them?” asked Zayn, eyes glued firmly to the screen, tongue curling around his upper lip, “Or hot sauce? Hello? Fries?”

Hearing no response, he paused the game and whipped around. Zayn froze. Liam stared back with a vacant expression. “Niall’s still in town with Harry and Lou.”

Zayn’s heart raced and he gulped.

“What’s up?” he said, pushing the words out of his throat.

“Nothing. Just wanted to hang out,” Liam replied, nonchalantly, kicking at his shoes, “Can I join in?”

Zayn blankly nodded. Liam sat down and grabbed a controller. The pit in Zayn’s stomach deepened as Liam’s knee grazed his. He restarted the game for two-player, and he had never felt more anxious in his life. Except maybe at X Factor.

Nothing but the sound of button mashing and dying aliens filled the room. Zayn ruminated on ways to break the silence but couldn’t find a good way to do so, while Liam focused intently on the game. He’d speed through the cutscenes, which Zayn was going to use to speak up, or skip through them outright. But then, Liam started humming a tune. It was quiet and appeared unintentional, fading in with the background music, and it made Zayn wonder what it was. It put him at ease, the more he heard, and automatically, the words came once he recognized the tune.

_I took my love, I took it down_

Out of the corner of my eye, he saw the corners of Liam’s lips curl up at the sound of song, so he kept going.

_I climbed a mountain and I turned around._  
 _And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills,_  
 _Till the landslide brought me down.  
_ _Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?_

In the midst of slaying aliens, Zayn sang one of his (secretly) favorite songs, and a quelling silence filled the room after he finished, dotted with the sounds of fingers tapping buttons, like people aweing just after a firework explosion. He relaxed, shoulders dropping noticeably down, and a smile spread across his lips.

“Why do you hide those songs from us?” Liam asked, not looking away from the screen.

“Honestly? It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s _interesting_.”

Zayn’s plans to avoid Liam experienced a complete turnaround, and soon, they were exchanging their insecurities about performing on stage and discussing plans in case the band ever broke up. These were the moments that made Zayn fall in love with Liam to begin with, but in that moment, he didn’t mind at all. It felt _normal_ , and he craved, no, _needed_ normal. It was then that Zayn decided to share something that he’d never shared with anyone before. It was risky, he thought, to share something so intimate, but if he didn't say it now, he probably couldn't later on. What the fuck, he figured, he's never going to love me like that anyway.

“I have this dream one day of owning a house at the top of a hill,” he said, “where I can see the sun rise and set every day. There’d be a backyard that leads out into a field, almost like a meadow, and I could wander around it without a care in the world. And every day would be tranquil and calm, and the world would be a happy place because nothing existed outside of it. And every day, I’d watch the sun set with my feet up, playing guitar and singing.”

After a long pause, Liam looked over and asked, “Am I anywhere in this dream of yours?”

It took Zayn an equal amount of time to think of an answer. Being in love with his best friend always made it difficult to interpret the intent behind every sentence, so he always tried to play it down in his mind. With Perrie, he could be as forward as he wanted, but because Liam had Danielle, who had come into the picture before Perrie, it allowed Zayn to fantasize and wish that Liam were secretly in love with him as well. He could have said something inane, and Zayn would have thought the world of it.

“You’d be sitting next to me,” is what he wanted to say but lacked the courage to do so. Instead, he muttered, “You, me, the guys. We’re all there.”

The door opened again. Niall came in first, tossing Zayn a bag of fast food, followed closely by Harry and Louis. The three of them plopped on the couch, raucous as ever, and Zayn’s quiet time came to an end. He dropped the controller, not that he had been really playing the game after Liam came, dug around the bag and stuffed a few fries in this mouth, and offered some to Liam, but he’d already gotten up and left for the bathroom.

//

_Ah, but you got away, didn’t you babe_  
 _You just turned your back on the crowd_  
 _You got away, I never once heard you say_  
 _I need you, I don’t need you_  
 _I need you, I don’t need you_  
 _And all of that jiving around_

Perrie listened with her eyes closed. She sat with her back against the headboard, her hair lying loose around her shoulders, and her legs behind Zayn, who sat on the corner of the bed hunched over the guitar. Truthfully, he needed her there. She served as a lightning rod, and his thoughts hadn't stopped storming in a while. Every time he'd hear Liam's voice, his heart would go crazy, his mouth dry, his palms wet. It was as if he were deliberately messing with Zayn's thoughts. Even as he sang the last line  _That's all, I don't even think of you that often_ , he knew it was a lie. So, yes. He needed Perrie there. But he didn't want her nearly as much.

“If One Direction doesn’t work out, you could always go solo,” she muttered, opening her eyes. Zayn looked over and smiled, but she didn’t know he didn’t mean it. He set the guitar down and shuffled closer toward her on the bed, putting her legs square in his lap. Perrie reached around his shoulders to plant a kiss on his neck. Nuzzling in, she whispered, "I want us to be on the coast some day, where the tide never rests."

Only, when Zayn tried to imagine it, he found himself standing next to Liam, not at the seashore, but on a porch overlooking a meadow lit by the sunset. The sea seemed almost perpetually gray and overcast. The breeze was cold and damp, and the sun stayed hidden behind the clouds. For some reason, Zayn couldn’t picture it any other way, and if he tried to, he was standing in the sand by himself. The water reminded him of something that could never return, much like throwing a rock down a bottomless pit.

“Sounds nice, babe,” he lied.

He slid an arm around Perrie’s waist, kissing her deeply, and they lay down, with her resting her head on his chest. He breathed her in, the soft fragrance soothing him, as she went on about getting a place on the coast before slowly drifting off. He shut his eyes as well, and let the dreams wash over him.

//

“Where is she?!”

A nurse pointed Zayn to the room down the hall. In his panic, he didn’t bother thanking him and ran as fast as he could. He wouldn’t believe it. He _couldn’t_. Not her. He _needed_ her. The world moved past him in a blur and the thick, paned door materialized before his person. He pushed it open and his heart sank. The guys stood around the curtain with their arms folded and heads low.

“Where is she?” Zayn repeated, much quieter this time.

Niall and Harry looked up and then looked away, trying to conceal their tears. Louis sat beneath the window curled up in a catatonic slump, eyes devoid of their usual rambunctious spirit. Arms wrapped tightly around Zayn, and Perrie came into view, but she was fine. Her eyes were wet and red, but she was entirely _fine_. Relief swept over Zayn with each quavering breath she took, but he sensed something else was wrong.

“Oh, my god, Per! You’re okay! I thought something happened to you.”

He kissed her long and hard, but it wasn’t returned.

“It’s Liam,” she said.

That sent a chill down Zayn’s spine. He looked to Louis, who kept staring through the air, then at Niall and Harry. They shook their heads. He pushed away from her but didn’t know where else to go. The world seemed to lose all integrity and sense of direction. Worst of all, he knew what Perrie was going to say, but he didn’t want to believe it. He stepped toward the curtain, but Niall grabbed his arm with a pleading, defeated look. Zayn shook the arm away and ripped the curtain wide open.

“No!”

He bolted upright, a loud gasp escaping him. His heart was pounding, and his lungs couldn’t fill themselves quickly enough. The bedroom was dark and Perrie lay by his side, curled up, dead asleep. A few seconds passed before he remembered that it was a dream. He breathed deeply and held it as long as he could. Over and over, he whispered to himself that it wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been. Zayn quietly slid out of bed and made his way into the open area for a drink of water. Although it had returned to beating normally, a lingering fear wrapped its fingers around his heart, and he couldn’t shake this nagging feeling that something could have gone awry while he slept.

He checked on Perrie again, planting a small kiss on her forehead, and then headed down the hall to Liam's room. He raised his knuckles, but for an agonizing minute, he debated whether or not he should knock.

He knocked.

Rather promptly, Liam answered the door, a bit surprised to see Zayn. Instantly, before Liam could say anything, Zayn pulled his friend, who was alive and well, into the tightest embrace his wiry arms could manage. His chest felt the faint thump of Liam’s heart through his thin, white t-shirt, and it assured Zayn that this was real. Liam stood there uncertain of the gesture and wrapped his arms around Zayn as well.

Finally convinced of his vitality, Zayn let out a long breath and let go, letting their arms fall away. Without another thought, he turned around and headed back to his room.

“Zayn. _Zayn_. What’s wrong?”

The last word latched on to him like a lasso, and Liam was holding the other end of the rope, begging for an answer.

“Just had a bad dream,” Zayn replied.

“Is that all I get?”

Zayn sighed and spun around.

“I dreamt that you died. You left me.”

There was much terror loaded in his words, and his voice cracked as he delivered them. Liam looked concerned, a small pout forming on his lips, but couldn’t say anything to comfort Zayn other than stand there and be, well, alive.

“Baby, come back to bed.”

Their eyes flickered toward Zayn’s door, where Perrie leaned against the doorjamb, eyelids struggling to keep themselves open. She waved to Liam, who nodded back, and beckoned for Zayn to return. Zayn and Liam exchanged one last glance at each other. Liam nodded to no one in particular and waited for Zayn to return, which he did. Perrie trudged back in and he followed. Right before he closed his door, he could have sworn he heard Liam mutter something.

“I won’t leave you.”

//

The boys parted and waited for Zayn to take the center stage. The whole setup was stereotypically coffee house, only he stood before thousands of screaming girls (and, of course, a few chaps), and it was damn impossible to get complete silence. Small specks of light flashed from the crowd coupled with loud murmuring as he walked toward the microphone. The lights suddenly felt like space heaters on his face and the audience seemed much, much larger. His heart knocked against his breastbone, asking if he were crazy. He mentally denied that, and adjusted the microphone a smidge before speaking into it.

“Lads, back me up,” he announced, swinging the guitar forward.

The girls roared. He looked to Harry and the rest of them, and they all gave him a nod. Looking to his right, he saw Liam smile, and that eased the nerves somewhat. Zayn gently slapped the body of the guitar to set the beat and went for it.

_It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside_  
 _I’m not one of those who can easily hide_  
 _I don’t have much money, but boy if I did_  
 _I’d buy a big house where we both could live_

_If I was a sculptor, but then again, no_  
 _Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show_  
 _I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do_  
 _My gift is my song, and this one's for you_

In between verses, he’d reflexively look to Liam. Despite everything he had tried to shed his love for this boy, it only made it stronger. They were talking again and hanging out and simply being who they used to be before Zayn realized that he was in love. The nightmare acted as a sort of 'reset' button. It reminded Zayn that even if Liam could never love him back, he'd miss him all the same, friend or not. In that moment, there was no one else he sang to, could sing to, wanted to sing to. And when he let the guitar drop from his hands and locked eyes with Liam, there was nothing outside of that short-lived silence, just the two of them on stage. The deafening roar washed that away, and Zayn returned to the present.

“Thank you! Thank you! That was for a very special person in my life,” he said, waving.

Not until after the show had ended could Zayn see the aftermath of his declaration. He pulled out his phone on the bus and checked the usual on his phone. Twitter had exploded, and as he scrolled through his tweets, he noticed an incredible number of people inquiring about the mystery person. Most assumed it was Perrie, and tweeted something like “What a lucky girl!” All it did was make Zayn feel guilty. He hadn’t dedicated the cover to Perrie, and even as he uttered the words “special someone” he was thinking of Liam.

It wasn't like he could do much now, though, as the bus rolled on in the night and the guys were falling asleep. Wide awake and mind storming with thoughts, Zayn wanted to get off for a smoke or just strum his guitar until his fingertips bled. He had to let out this anxiety somehow. As quietly as he could, he turned on the Xbox and set up Halo. Then, he made a mental note to purchase more games at the next city. The start menu had yet to load when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Zayn jumped up, smacking the top of his head against the bottom of Louis’ chin.

“Ow! What was that for? Jumpy much?” hissed Louis.

“Sorry,” he winced, rubbing his head.

They nursed their injuries for a bit before sitting down. In the glow of the TV, Zayn could tell that Louis wanted to ask him something, especially with the way he fidgeted with his controller. He had been itching to do so for a while now, and now that Zayn thought about it, it was somewhat suspicious that Louis looked like he was about to pass out with his tongue dangling out.

“Just spit it out,” Zayn said, rolling his eyes.

“Who’d you dedicate that song to?” Louis shot, “Be honest. It was me, wasn’t it?”

“Ha, I think El would castrate me before that happened.”

“Well, it obviously wasn’t for Perrie.”

Zayn tensed up and accidentally dropped the controller. Louis’ eyes widened, and Zayn realized that he had made the rookie mistake of taking what Louis said too seriously. A knowing look spread across Louis’ face, as if he had just struck oil, and it honed in on Zayn with a cheek to cheek grin.

“Who is it? You hafta to tell me!” he pressed on in a loud whisper.

“No, I don’t.”

"Zayn, if you aren't going to answer, then I'll just keep asking until I break you."

"Lou, this isn't something I want to share right now."

“Zayn, I don’t want to know just to know,” he said, frustration rapidly bubbling up and replacing his grin with a serious face, “I want to know because you’ve been acting weird for the past fucking month and a half. We're brothers, all of us. No matter what, you can talk to me. It just sucks that you think you can't. It hurts.”

Zayn sighed, "Look, I'm sorry. I know I've been off, but it's about all of us." He gestured with a circular wave. "So, I don't want to talk about it."

Louis grew quiet and asked, "Do you not trust me?" The hurt in his tone went both ways. Zayn winced and slid an arm around Louis so that they sat with little space between them. "Lou, never think that. _Ever._ "

“You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” Louis asked, leaning back on the couch.

“No! God, why people keep assuming that?”

"It was an honest thought! Is it something back at home?"

"No, everyone's fine."

“Then what is it?!”

“I’m in love with someone!” Zayn blurted with a hushed urgency, "God, there!"

“I know you fancy Per, Zayn. Why can’t you talk about it? I talk to you all the time about El— Wait, you're not thinking of leaving her?”

“Maybe. Wait, no, it’s— Yes. I just. I'm in love someone else.”

He stopped himself. Louis wallowed in the silence and suspense, picking up nothing but the hum of the Xbox and the bus, as he waited for Zayn to say the name. Zayn was terrified, his blood pounding crazily in his head, but he trusted Louis, who saw the tears about to drop from Zayn’s eyes. After a long while, Zayn mouthed the name. Louis squinted in the darkness, so Zayn repeated it. A few seconds passed before Louis figured it out, and the half of his expression lit by the TV slowly fluctuated from shocked, to astonished, to wounded. He mouthed back “Oh my god,” to which Zayn numbly nodded. Louis stroked Zayn's hair and held him as he quietly cried on Louis’ shoulder. He finally admitted it, but it just hurt more than before.

“Does he know?” Louis whispered.

“Nope. I don't think I'd want him to hate me," Zayn replied.

"Oh, he won't hate you, Zayn. He doesn't hate anyone."

"But he won't love me. So he might as well hate me."

//

Another city, another show. This one had been the same as the last, only Zayn refused to make solid eye contact with anyone but Louis, who slapped him on the back from time to time wearing a poor excuse for a grin. It somewhat concealed the obvious worry behind it, but it was much like watching a little girl who peaked through her fingers. Sometimes, he’d playfully come up to Zayn between songs and cup his chin with his finger, as if to say “Chin up.” At least he'd made good on his promise about not telling the others about the night on the bus.

Zayn spent most of the car ride back staring out the window, ignoring the banter in the rows in front of him. Louis fell asleep on his shoulder, which admittedly, felt more pleasant than it should have. The buildings and bare linden trees blurred by into one, and everything passed by in a sickly orange pallor created by the old streetlamps.

Once at the hotel, Niall ordered extra-large burritos for all of them. Harry gaped at the large paper bags the delivery boy dropped off, wondering how Niall regularly consumed these and could still be as thin as he was. He handed Zayn a bag with two and said one was for Liam. Zayn sighed, but figured it was just a friendly delivery. At the very least, he could handle that. The weight of the bags, now, that was another issue. Louis offered to do so but Zayn simply whispered, "I got this."

He knocked on Liam’s door but heard no answer. After calling a few times, Zayn tested the doorknob, and when it gave way, he entered.

“Hey, Li! I got your burrito,” he said.

That’s when he heard a faint singing coming from the shower, a distorted melody echoing off the walls and through the vapor, and it became clearer and clearer until the shower fell to the backdrop of the song. It was soft and slow and eerily familiar. Zayn set the bag of burritos down on the bed and listened closely to the lyrics.

_There’s a place for us_  
 _A time and place for us_  
 _Hold my hand and we’re halfway there_  
 _Hold my hand and I’ll take you there_  
 _Somehow_  
 _Someday_  
 _Somewhere_

Zayn stormed out as fast as he could. He crashed onto his bed and buried his face in a pillow, screaming through the fibers. That wasn’t a song Liam was supposed to know. It was unfair, he thought, and it upset him for some godforsaken reason. That was _his_ song to sing when he'd lose Liam, not the other way around. His eyes and throat burned as he whispered “Dammit” repeatedly into the pillow. He slammed his fists blindly into the mattress again and again. Afar, someone entered the room.

“Zayn! You forgot your burrito. I don't understand how Niall eats these things. Zayn?”

The footsteps grew closer and stopped.

“Zayn? What’s wrong?”

Liam picked him up but was instantly shoved away. Zayn scrambled off the bed and stood up, purposely placing the bed in between them. Liam’s eyes darted to the dark imprints on the pillow and then to Zayn, who wiped at his cheeks.

“Get out,” Zayn choked.

“No. Not until you talk to me,” Liam said. He firmly stood his ground.

“Please, just leave, Liam. I can’t do this right now.”

The pleading, growing crack in his voice didn’t faze Liam, who moved along the periphery of the bed, edging closer.

“Stop. Liam, stop.”

Defiantly, Liam walked over in long strides and cornered Zayn. His hair was still wet from the shower and it dripped onto his black shirt. For once in his life, Zayn was genuinely afraid of him. Liam’s eyes were stern and piercing, and his hulking frame was suddenly daunting. Zayn gulped.

“Talk to me,” Liam repeated, his breath palpable and warm.

“I can’t talk to you,” Zayn muttered, “Not to you.”

“I thought we were friends, Zayn Malik.”

Liam’s gaze bore into Zayn’s, whose eyes were red and sunken from the sleepless nights.

“Friends don’t fall in love with other friends,” Zayn whispered, voice wavering.

The stern, focused face promptly vanished and transformed into fear. Liam backed away slowly, his eyes fighting to stay dry. He maintained his composure walking backward to the doorway and then he spoke again. Zayn stayed in his corner, waiting to be ridiculed or rejected or both.

“So, you know. You found out,” Liam squeezed out, “and you hate me.”

“Wha—”

“It’s fine. I’ll just leave you alone. I'll just le—”

Zayn watched numbly as Liam disappeared, the door slamming shut behind him. He should have chased after him, but he couldn’t will his legs to move. Nothing made sense anymore.

At some point, Harry burst in and frantically asked where Liam went to. He had apparently stormed in, grabbed his jacket and ran out without a word to anyone. No security detail, nothing.

“What happen?” Harry asked.

“I’m not sure I know the answer to that,” Zayn replied.

They went out into the hallway. Harry, Niall and Louis all took turns calling Liam, but they were all sent directly to voicemail, which offset immense panic in all of them. They knew no one in this city and had only come to perform. They didn’t know the language, although most bystanders around here knew some English, but it was never safe to leave without security detail. They kept calling until Niall got through, however briefly.

“What did he say?” Zayn asked.

“He kept singing some song about somewhere.”

“Where is ‘somewhere’?” Louis asked.

“No, that’s what the song was about. ‘Somewhere’.”

At the very least, it didn't sound like there were fans crowding around him, but he did sound drunk. Frustrated they couldn’t just triangulate the call, the boys grabbed maps and fanned out into the unknown, bringing security with them. Zayn checked the bus just to be sure, only to discover that his guitar was missing. The word ‘somewhere’ rang a bell, and his gut told him to look for a steep hill.

With the help of the internet, he managed to find the one of the only hills in the city they’d passed on the way to the hotel and walked around it for a couple of hours. He made sure to canvass every nook and cranny until he gave up. On his way down, he wandered into a residential area, and the faint sound of guitar strings being plucked reached his ears. It was unsteady and fragmented but undoubtedly a guitar. Zayn traced the uneven melody down the sidewalk and soon, he spotted a figure sitting on the ground with his back against a tree, guitar wobbling in his arms. He ran up and let out a deep breath.

“Go away,” said Liam.

Zayn knelt down to get a better look. He plucked the guitar away and searched Liam's pockets, and to his relief, nothing was missing. Except for a few euros, signaled by the conspicuously empty bottle of wine.

“Ugh, fine. You wanna s- see the f- five euros I got from a s- stranger?” Liam slurred, holding the bill up.

Zayn laughed and hailed a cab. He called everyone to let them know that he’d found Liam and told them all to head back to the hotel.

The ride back was silent. Zayn was angry and confused but mostly worried. What did Liam mean? What did any of this mean? Liam said nothing, just drunkenly pawing at the window, leaving oily streaks with his fingertips, consciousness flowing in and out like the tide. Once at the hotel, Zayn paid the driver and carried Liam in. The guys all huddled around Liam and helped him into the elevator, but once they reached their floor and stepped out, Zayn took control of the situation.

“This is between him and me,” he flatly stated.

Louis nodded, understanding enough to know this was it, and herded Niall and Harry back to their room. Despite his wiry build, Zayn hoisted Liam up long enough to enter his room and set him down in a chair. He poured a cup of water handed it to Liam, who didn’t take it. Zayn set it down on the table and pulled up a chair right next to Liam. He’d been crying, that much was obvious, and his leather jacket, which he’d borrowed from Zayn, had specks of splashback vomit.

“You really know how to make me worry,” Zayn said.

“You really know how to stomp on someone’s heart,” Liam replied snidely, letting his head dangle over the back of the seat, “Leave me alone.”

Zayn groaned loudly.

“When I said ‘Friends don’t fall in love with friends’, I meant me, you numbskull.”

Liam swerved his head up to look at Zayn in confusion, battling the spinning and nausea.

“You know what?" Zayn went on, "Never mind. You’re going to forget this tomorrow anyway. Drink the water, Li. I’ll tell you everything when you’re sober.”

Zayn got up and headed for the door. He could stay with someone else tonight and just tell the truth tomorrow. He'd waited long enough. What was another day?

“Hold on.”

He turned around and Liam crashed right into him, knocking them flat on to the carpet. Zayn let out an audible "Ooph" as the wind fled from his lungs. Liam groaned as he propped himself up and aligned his eyes with Zayn’s.

“I won’t remember this anyway, right?” he said.

Liam dropped down slowly and let his lips meet Zayn’s. They were soft like he had imagined all this time, and there was a slight sweetness to them. Liam came up for a breath but Zayn’s hands traveled up and stuck themselves to the sides of Liam’s head and pulled down. It felt good and above all, it felt _right_ , like everything in their world had built up to this moment. Zayn felt a mix of emotions swirl inside of him - happiness, relief, overjoyed, connected.

The door swung open, and they both looked up, breaking their lip-lock, but neither of them wanted to feel separated just yet.

“Oh my god. I thought you two were fighting,” Louis blurted, “I heard noises I just thought—”

He stammered a little before turning red and shutting the door. Zayn burst out into laughter, strangely happy in a way that he had never remembered. Zayn cradled Liam's face, brushing his thumbs over those cheekbones, and smiled. He leaned up and kissed Liam again, tasting him and the best part was, Liam was reciprocating.

"'m sleepy," Liam muttered. And so, Zayn stood up and pulled Liam up with him and they headed for Zayn’s bedroom for some much needed shuteye.

Tomorrow it was.

//

With a slight gasp, Zayn woke up. The first thing his eyes caught was the leather jacket on Liam’s back and he could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Hearing the slight commotion, Liam turned around, startling Zayn somewhat, and smiled weakly.

“Morning,” he muttered.

“Morning,” Zayn replied.

All of a sudden, Zayn felt nervous. This was so much easier when Liam was drunk. He sat up and crossed his legs.

“So… you don’t happen to remember anything from last night, do you?” he asked.

Liam went ashen. He quickly sat up, realized how hung over he was, and collapsed back down with an arm over his face, head spinning and mouth dry.

“I can’t remember anything past our fight,” he answered after an agonizing pause.

Zayn sighed in relief. "Li, I promised I'd tell you when you were sober, so I'm going to now."

He could see Liam squirming, the hangover being the only thing keeping him from bolting out the door. Zayn took a deep breath and tried his hardest not to fumble his words.

“About a couple of months ago, something changed. I— god, _I_ changed. I was unhappy and angsty and I just felt frail. And you were right. I was acting completely, entirely weird. I was out on patios singing to myself at three in the morning because I wanted to forget and be away from you. Do you know how hard that was? Do you know how hard it is not to be close to you?”

Liam’s arm slowly slid off, the urge for realization clear in his eyes. He sat up and waited for the rest.

“And then you sang that damn song. I lost it. But I didn’t expect _you_ to run when we fought. Hell, I thought _I’d_ be the one running away in tears. I know you have Danielle, and I shouldn't think of you that way, but I just— I always fall asleep with you in my mind. Besides touring and music and the band, you’re pretty much all I think about these days, Li, and it scares me shitless.”

Zayn took a deep breath and hoped the jumble of thoughts made some sense. Overall, it felt nice to get it out there. But the pleasant catharsis was tempered with fear and suspense. He looked to Liam with his lower lip snagged in his teeth. After all, last night could have been a fluke. Liam sat up again and scrunched up against the wall and Zayn turned so that they faced each other on opposite ends of the bed.

“Danielle and I stopped working a long time ago,” Liam whispered, “She wanted so much more than I was willing to give, so we ended it. I didn't tell anyone, but I desperately needed to. And then you started being 'weird' and stopped talking to me and the guys, I thought it was just me imagining things. I thought you were just missing home or something and you’d snap out of it like you usually do, but then I saw you talking with everyone else. I don’t have anyone else, not like you. You blew me off when I needed you. You weren't there.”

He looked up at the ceiling, trying to gather coherent thoughts through his muddled mind. Zayn tried his best to keep his eyes dry.

“That night at the club, I realized it. I was a little drunk. Louis bought me one shot too many, and I figured I’d tell you. When I found you outside smoking, I was so determined to just come out with it and say it but I chickened out. I almost did it then. But then I thought, what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he rejects me? What if he _hates_ me after that?

"I tried to drop some hints and get some hint from you, some inkling that you thought of me in a different way."

Liam wiped a hand over his face, trying to mask the tears that threatened to pour out.

“So, I ran last night because I thought you figured it out, and that you actually hated me because I ruined everything.”

Zayn crawled over to Liam's side and tucked his knees in to his chest. "I can’t hate you. I actually kind of love you.”

A cautious look formed on Liam’s face as his eyes flickered between Zayn’s lips and eyes. He licked his lips, and slowly leaned over. He cupped Zayn’s chin and brought their lips to each other. Zayn felt his heart soar and as his eyes closed, he could see all of the things they never were come to be. The house on the hill, their fingers laced together as they sat watching the sunset, Liam’s hand in his hair, all the dreams he had were precipitating into reality.

Liam peeled off. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and then Zayn laughed and said, “God, we’re stupid.”

“What about Per?” Liam asked.

“I… we're taking a break. We never really fit."

“I’m sor—”

Zayn shut Liam up with another kiss, this one long and deep, and he didn’t break it until he had to come up for breath. He looked at Liam in all seriousness and said, “We’ve wasted too much time talking. So, shut up and kiss me until my lips are raw.”

//

“Why are we walking when we could be driving?” Zayn wheezed. He hated exertion of pretty much every kind. Liam simply smiled back at the grumbling and the furled lip and squeezed his hand tighter. Zayn huffed and wiped the sweat on his brow. How many more steps did he have to climb?

The orange sun peeked out from the horizon as they reached the top, blinding him, and they stopped. He held up a hand to shield his eyes and Liam let go of his other hand to stand in front of Zayn. He gestured behind him to show a large open space with nothing but an endless stretch of tall grass with little smudges of baby’s breath and trees in the distance.

“I bought this land,” Liam said.

“Why? There’s nothing here,” Zayn replied.

“I bought it,” he said, kissing Zayn, “so one day, after I build a house here, we can watch the sunset together.”

It was almost painful how much he loved this man. His heart struggled to beat normally and he willed himself not to cry out of sheer happiness because Zayn didn’t think he’d ever find anyone as good as Liam, someone who made his mouth go dry just by saying his name or his breath catch in his throat with a simple grin. The sun cast a halo around Liam’s face, and Zayn smiled as he gazed up at how fitting this was. For Liam was Zayn’s sun and he never set even when the day had gone.

“Have I told you that I love you?” Zayn whispered.

With an earnest look, Liam replied, “Have I told you that I love you too?”

Zayn laughed and pressed his lips firmly against Liam’s. He held him close and wrapped his arms around Liam’s neck as Liam's hands settled in the small of Zayn's back, and he sang a slow, tender tune that he knew Liam had never heard before. He’d practiced it as secretively as he could so he could surprise Liam with it during a special occasion. And this trumped them all. Liam closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Zayn's and listened.

_Like a river flows surely to the sea_  
 _Darling so it goes_  
 _Some things are meant to be_  
 _Take my hand, take my whole life too_  
 _For I can't help falling in love with you_  
 _For I can't help falling in love with you_

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to get this out there. Sorry if it seems rushed.


End file.
